


UNTITLED

by FUNERALSHOES



Category: Dorohedoro
Genre: M/M, no I don't take criticism, self indulgent, yes Fujita is trans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22559440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FUNERALSHOES/pseuds/FUNERALSHOES
Summary: here's my contribution to this really cute and unfortunately rare pair. there will be more to come, I just didn't want to get carried away lmao. this one goes out to my fellow fujita enthusiasts on drhdr twitter.(trans male content made by a trans male creator)
Relationships: Fujita/Matsumura (Dorohedoro)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 50





	UNTITLED

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in so long please don't come for me  
> sorry the ending is a little? abrupt? but there will be a continuation i promise

Fujita’s footsteps echoed softly in the long, empty hallway.  
It was well past midnight, and the other members of the En family had retreated into their rooms for the night. Fujita found that was the best time to get his physical training in, he didn’t have to worry about judging gazes falling on him in the gym. As he walked, the muscles in his legs ached, giving satisfying proof that he was making some progress. 

He quietly opened the door to his room. The lights were off, just as he’d left them. The TV was on, Matsumura’s reclining figure on the couch visible in the glow, just as he’d left him. Fujita smiled to himself, shaking his head.  
“You’re still here?” Fujita chuckled. “It’s like 1:30.”  
“Well I was gonna leave, but this movie is so bad, I can’t stop watching.” Matsumura replied, taking a sip of his beer. “How was your workout?”  
“Not bad. My arms are killing me, though.” Fujita flopped down onto the couch, using the small towel draped around his shoulders to wipe the sweat from his face.  
“You’re gonna be stronger than me at this rate.” Matsumura laughed, giving Fuijta a punch in the aching bicep. Fujita winced and gave him a playful punch in return. The two of them laughing together made Fujita feel warm, content.  
These nights with Matsumura were more common than Matsumura sleeping in his own room nowadays. The two of them would stay up much too late, Matsumura would eventually pass out on the couch and Fujita would finally climb into his own bed. He’d lay there, stare at the ceiling, listen to Matsumura’s deep breathing, and overthink. Of course the two of them were close, he’d think. They were partners, isn’t closeness normal? Hell, look at Shin and Noi. They were so close it often made Fujita wonder if anything else was going on between them. Did people see him and Matsumura that way? Even if they did, was that a bad thing? 

These thoughts started to creep into his mind again as he sat beside his partner on the couch, absent-mindedly staring at the television. Times like these, where he’d catch himself wanting to lay his head on Matsumura’s shoulder or entwine their fingers, were becoming increasingly common. Everything about him felt comfortable, his presence was a reassurance. Matsumura was the only person in Fujita’s life who mattered, he thought to himself. There was no denying that Fujita wanted more than just companionship from him, but his stomach tied itself in knots at the thought of confessing, and even more when he thought of Matsumura’s response.  
Fujita stole a quick glance in Matsumura’s direction. He was slouched lazily over the armrest, chin in his hand, eyes still glued to the screen, completely unaware of the storm brewing in poor Fujita’s brain. Fujita wasn’t sure where the urge came from, but it was so strong that he couldn’t ignore it. He had to make a move, he couldn’t take it anymore. All of the sudden, his entire body was screaming for affection and the only person he wanted it from was his partner.  
He shifted his body closer to Matsumura, leaning against him slightly. When Matsumura offered no protest, he slowly lowered his head and rested a cheek on Matsumura’s shoulder. Again, no protest. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if Matsumura had noticed at first. Fujita could feel his anxious heart beating all throughout his body at the tiny amount of contact.  
Without taking his eyes off the tv, Matsumura laid a casual hand on Fujita’s thigh. Fujita’s body felt as if it’d been engulfed in flames. He let out a yelp at the touch, hand snapping up to cover his mouth, but it was too late. Matsumura turned to look at him, a smirk threatening to appear on his face at the reaction.  
“You alright?” He asked, barely holding back laughter as Fujita’s composure came unravelled.  
“I’m fine, I’m good-” He squeaked, playing it off by running a hand through his hair. He cursed himself for letting something this small destroy him. He hadn’t fully realized how starved he’d been. The simple touch set off a chain reaction in his mind, and he was consumed by thoughts of Matsumura’s hands all over his body.  
Fujita looked up at Matsumura and met his gaze, relieved that it was too dark to see the flush on his cheeks. His eyes wandered over Matsumura’s face. The bags under his sleepy eyes, the stubble above his lip and on his chin. His eyes lingered for an eternity on Matsumura’s lips. The two of them leaned in, pulled like magnets of opposite polarity. Fujita started to panic, his palms grew sweaty, he hesitated.  
“M-Matsu-” his voice broke, so afraid he was going to do something impulsive and ruin the bond between them. He was torn between wanting to disappear completely, and wanting Matsumura. Matsumura placed a hand on Fujita’s neck, closed his eyes, and pressed their lips together. The contrast between the feeling of Matsumura’s palm, cold from holding his drink, and his warm lips, raised goosebumps on Fujita’s skin. It took him a moment to react, he froze, eyes wide open, muscles tensed. His movements were stiff and unsure, hands hovering in space as he tried to figure out where to put them. He planted them on Matsumura’s shoulders, gripping them just a little bit harder than he should have, finally returned the kiss.  
It was an unceremonious display. Fujita’s fumbling attempts to recreate what he’d seen in movies by tilting his head this way and that caused the two of them to clack their teeth together on multiple occasions. Matsumura pulled away just enough to speak.  
“Slow down a little, Fujita.” He laughed.  
“Sorry…” Fujita said, already a little short of breath. He let his eyes drift closed as Matsumura leaned in again. His pace was slower this time. His hand found its way back to Fujita’s thigh. Another surprised yelp escaped Fujita when Matsumura’s tongue brushed over his upper lip. While his mouth hung open in shock, He slid it past his teeth. The sensation sent a powerful, almost overwhelming warmth straight between Fujita’s legs. Matsumura’s stubble rubbed against the soft skin of Fujita’s cheeks and chin. He became aware of his body growing stiff from the awkward twisting required to kiss someone who sits beside you, and decided to make an adjustment. He pulled away, stood up from the couch and came to stand in front of a slightly perplexed Matsumura. With a deep breath to gather his courage, Fujita straddled Matsumura’s lap. The new position made his cheeks burn with embarrassment, but Matsumura seemed to not mind at all. As their lips reconnected, his hands slid over Fujita’s back. Fujita placed his hands on Matsumura’s chest, gripping onto the fabric of his t-shirt.  
After a moment, they pulled apart. They looked at each other with heavy, lidded gazes.  
“You...should probably go shower.” Matsumura chuckled.  
“Right, yeah.” Fujita laughed, shaking his head as if to return to reality. Reluctantly, he climbed off Matsumura’s lap. “I’ll uh… be right back.”  
The cold water was refreshing to Fujita’s sweaty, aching body, but it couldn’t clear his racing mind. He stood still, leaning his forehead against the wall of the shower and drowning in his thoughts. He replayed the scene over and over in his brain. He would have gone further, he thought to himself. He wanted to go further, as far as Matsumura would let him, but not tonight. Tonight, they would both let it sink in. Fujita stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and half-hoping he’d feel Matsumura’s eyes on his body. That was not the case, he looked up to find Matsumura already asleep, in Fujita’s bed nonetheless. Fujita smiled to himself. He slipped into a fresh pair of boxers, dried his wet hair, and climbed into bed beside him. Coming down from the adrenaline rush made his body feel impossibly heavy as his head hit the pillow. Matsumura was fast asleep, facing away from him. He watched his slow breathing for a moment, it calmed him. Fujita shifted closer and laid an arm over Matsumura’s chest before letting his heavy eyelids drift closed. The feeling of safety and contentment in Matsumura’s company was familiar by now, but tonight, something was different.


End file.
